


Tell Me True

by rednihilist



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Backstory, Pre-Movie, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 21:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rednihilist/pseuds/rednihilist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A meeting of the minds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me True

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: 'Inception' and certain characters belong to Christopher Nolan, Syncopy, Warner Brothers et al. No profit is gained from this writing—only, hopefully, enjoyment.

Afterward, he never again quite manages to sync up with all of the expectations. There is always a canyon between what he is supposed to be and what he thinks he is. Sometimes, he will catch the instant that people finally spot that discrepancy in him, and he is simultaneously pleased and ashamed in those moments. Slowly, though, with every passing year, that aspect of humiliation dwindles and in its place rises up what can only be described as defiance. He is different, markedly so, and there is no reconciling possible, not for him.  
  
Life handed him his lemons, and, even though they are in fact grapefruit in his case, all he can do is what he can do. He'll squeeze juice from the bitter fruit he has been given, and then he will drink it down, long and deep. Nobody's judgment will matter to him but his own and, even then, only when he actively thinks about it.  
  
He is what he is, and he tried to change and pretend otherwise for a long time, but there's no going back. There never is. Life is merciless, and it will keep going with or without him. He will not be left behind, never again, and if that means he in turn has to do bad things or be somewhat cruel and merciless himself, then he is able to square that with his conscience and still keep moving.  
  
He is who he is, and there's no going back. Forward is the only way.  
  
There is no changing the past, after all.  
  
Right?  
  
***  
  
To his way of thinking, sex without intimacy is about as spiritual a pursuit as shaving or eating. Without an emotional connection, without love, it is purely a physical release.  
  
And so he has no problem abstaining, not like the others seem to. He also eats food because not to do so results in an unnecessary distraction, so the simple, empty meals are not high on his list of complaints.   
  
At first, he cannot stand the other recruits. They are abrasive, brash, crude, and his teeth are constantly grinding down in an attempt to keep his thoughts to himself. He looks forward to the day when he will move ahead, and they too will be shipped somewhere else.  
  
Gradually, though, this changes. One day, he snaps to attention and realizes he just shared a dismissive look with de Selms across from him and that this is not the first time he has done so. Later, in the mess, he trades with Haner, and it is a seamless passing of so-called foodstuffs. It's routine and practiced.  
  
He has become accustomed to these people and imagines this is how sibling relationships work.  
  
Then, two weeks later, they are split. The world changes again, and everything he knows is the foundation for more that he must learn now, immediately, yesterday.  
  
Then, four months later, it is another reassignment, another set of mandates.  
  
Then, another. And another.  
  
Then, nearly two years to the day since the last of Basic, he is moved again.  
  
He begins to suspect this is not the usual progression and is proven correct on the day he exits the jeep, only to find himself in front of a rundown building, standing near a civilian vehicle, with no other personnel in sight.  
  
He is alert, and by no means is caution a quality he has ever lacked, and, still, entering the warehouse to the sound of loud music comes as somewhat of a surprise. He is taken aback, confused, for an indecent length of time. The state and condition of the building's interior is in direct contrast to its exterior. First, it is utterly silent, where outside there had been the threads of harsh, pounding music. Inside are furnishings simultaneously worn and new, tech both advanced and yet well used, and every step forward puts him at ease while he sweats and frowns from overwhelming, nearly unbearable anxiety.  
  
It is a funhouse mirror inside this place, and only after he sees a night sky out of windows that should be showcasing an early morning sunrise does a theory truly begin to form in his mind.  
  
"Impressive," a male voice suddenly declares, and there are no echoes surrounding it as there should be in a building like this. The acoustics are faulty as well, as where the voice originated is not where its owner appears. Two agile steps, and a man of roughly his own age, standing casually by a pillar, is now abruptly across the room, a difference of nearly 50 feet covered in the blink of an eye. "You catch on quick," the other man says, and this time the voice is quieter, closer, more familiar in tone.  
  
At that point, the reality of the situation is clear, the equivalent of a flashing neon sign on the freeway ordering everyone to merge into one lane. He smiles, says clearly, "This isn't real."  
  
The man instantly returns the expression, the skin at the corners of his mouth and eyes wrinkling, indicating he most likely does a great deal of smiling.  
  
"Well, first test passed then," the guy says warmly, holding out a slim white hand.  
  
He responds mechanically and is shaking that hand before he really has time to process it.  
  
"I'm Dom Cobb," the man says, as they shake and then release. He tilts his head to the side, and, for some reason, that is the moment when the building's lights come on full-blast. "And, no, this isn't real," Cobb adds, in response to his earlier statement. "You're dreaming, Justin. We're in a shared dream state right now."  
  
"Arthur," he automatically corrects, the military mindset having been foremost in his mind for awhile now. It's an effort not to sound completely annoyed with such a very _civilian_ civilian. "Everyone just goes with 'Arthur,'" he adds, attempting to cut the curtness with a gentler tone and another smile.  
  
" _Arthur_ ," Cobb repeats, still studying him closely, after a few seconds adding, "why don't you tell me what gave it away?"  
  
Two years from Basic, his assignment switches to dreaming, and, in truth, he never switches back.  
  
"The paradoxes," he states, and when Cobb lifts his eyebrows in a gesture for him to elaborate, Arthur does so. "They're fascinating," he tells him, "but too obvious. You need to be more subtle, perhaps hide them a bit."

 

 


End file.
